


find shelter somewhere in me

by zach_stone



Series: The Geiszler & Gottlieb Post-Saving-the-World Lecture Tour [2]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Coping With the World Not Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Angst, Obligatory Lecture Tour Fic, Post-Canon, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 18:31:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: “You ready for this?” Newt mutters as they approach the podium.Hermann shoots him the smallest smile, touching Newt's wrist. “With you, always.”--The Geiszler and Gottlieb Lecture Tour continues, and Newt realizes Hermann may not be coping with the aftermath of the war as well as he pretends to be.





	find shelter somewhere in me

**Author's Note:**

> another installment because i really love this concept! it's not Required to read the first fic in this series, but this one might make a little more sense if you do. once again there's smut included in this and once again it's real vanilla bc that's how i be. enjoy!

When Hermann insisted they drive from Boston to New York City, back before their lecture tour began, Newt was skeptical. “Hermann,” he said, watching the other man meticulously compare rental car prices online, “I can’t drive.”

“I can,” Hermann responded.

Newt bit back a laugh. “Dude, you cannot.”

Hermann turned away from his computer long enough to give Newt an extremely irritated look. “I _can_ ,” he insisted. “I have had my driver’s license since I was nineteen years old.”

“Okay, sure, you can drive _in theory_ ,” Newt allowed. “But when’s the last time you were behind the wheel? In America? We can just fly, dude, it’s fine.”

“It is a four-hour drive, Newton, to fly would be absurd,” Hermann snapped. He stabbed at his keyboard with more force than necessary, and Newt threw his hands in the air, defeated.

 

Now, sitting in the passenger seat of the sensible little electric car Hermann rented, two steaming travel mugs of coffee in the cupholders between them and more than 200 miles ahead, Newt finds he doesn’t mind the prospect of driving to New York after all. Of course, that is largely due to the fact that Hermann is holding his hand over the gearshift, something that the Newt from several months ago could only dare to dream of.

It’s early morning, and Newt would be drowsy if he weren’t still humming with the newness of Hermann’s affection for him. He can’t seem to stop grinning dopily at the other man, who doesn’t look away from the road but smiles faintly like he can feel Newt’s gaze. It turns out he is a good driver, if a bit of a speed demon on the highway.

Hermann is undeniably handsome — his sharp jawline, high cheekbones, the faint blush that spreads to the tips of his ears — but that’s not what Newt’s admiring now, not exactly. Hermann is _stable_ , a steady constant unshaken by the terrors that still plague Newt every time he closes his eyes. It’s not to say that Hermann is emotionless, because the man wears his heart on his sleeve so earnestly that Newt aches for him sometimes, but he seems to have adjusted to their new normal with almost no trouble at all. Newt envies this as much as he clings to its certainty.

“Your staring is rather distracting,” Hermann says, interrupting Newt’s thoughts. He sounds amused. “Did you need something?”

“Just admiring the view,” Newt replies. Hermann blushes more, and Newt is delighted. After a moment, though, he finds himself saying, “Hey, actually, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Hermann says, glancing at Newt for a second before turning back to the road.

“Do you…” Newt pauses, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. “Do you ever miss it?”

“Miss what?”

“You know. Before.”

“You’re asking me if I miss the war?” Hermann sounds mildly alarmed. “What sort of question — of course I don’t. What would I miss? The cramped quarters, the constant threat of annihilation looming over our heads, the outdated equipment —”

“Okay, I get it,” Newt interrupts, feeling stupid. “Maybe ‘miss’ isn’t the right word, I don’t know. Never mind.”

Hermann cuts his eyes to him again, and Newt can see the concern on his face. “Newton —”

“Seriously, forget it.” Newt looks away, turning to stare out the window instead. The glass is warm against his cheek as he presses his face to it. The car is quiet for a stretch of time, and Newt feels regret sitting sour and inevitable in his stomach.

“All the war gave me was misery,” Hermann says eventually. His voice is soft, but firm, like he’s assuring himself as much as Newt of this fact.

“And me,” Newt can’t help but say.

Hermann chuckles quietly, and his hand finds Newt’s hair, brushing through it comfortingly even as his eyes never stray from the road ahead. “Yes. And you.”

 

Traffic is bad the closer they get to NYU, and they end up barely having time to check into their hotel and dump their bags in their room before they have to rush to campus. It’s a packed auditorium, and Newt is buzzing with the thrill of a crowd. He watches Hermann school his nervous expression into one of cool, unruffled neutrality. He’s always admired the way Hermann can do that.

“You ready for this?” he mutters as they approach the podium.

Hermann shoots him the smallest smile, touching Newt’s wrist. “With you, always.”

The lecture devolves into bickering, just as it had in Boston, but Hermann has that glint in his eye that he gets sometimes, when there’s no real heat behind their words and they’re both delighting in the rush of matching wits with a true equal. The end of their lecture is met with enthusiastic applause, and when they open the floor for questions, the number of hands that shoot up is almost overwhelming.

Most of the questions are directed at Newt — he can’t help it if alien anatomy is more exciting than crunching numbers, he’s been telling Hermann this for _years —_ so when a young woman says, “Um, I have a question for Dr. Gottlieb?” Hermann’s face lights up.

“Yes, of course,” he says, smiling kindly at her.

“Um, hello,” the woman says. She can’t be more than twenty, and she’s clearly nervous. “My name is Maya, I’m working on my master’s in robotics, and I’m a huge admirer of your work. I actually wrote my term paper based on your article about Mark 1 jaegers in the International Journal of Robotics.”

Hermann is practically preening. “That’s very flattering to hear,” he tells her. “What is your question, dear girl?”

“Well, you said that by initiating a Drift with the kaiju brain, you were finally able to understand how the Breach worked and find a way to get through.” Hermann nods, encouraging. Maya continues, “Do you ever look back on the losses humanity faced because we didn’t fully understand what we were up against, and wonder what you might’ve prevented if you’d known earlier?”

Hermann’s smile falters. His grip on his cane tightens almost imperceptibly. Newt watches him from the other end of the podium, wondering if perhaps he should interject. Before he can, Hermann speaks.

“I — I’m afraid I don’t quite understand the question,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Maya says quickly. “My brother was a pilot. He died in the attack on St. Lawrence.” She looks down, nervous. “So I wonder, you know. If things had been different, who could have been saved. Surely you do too, sometimes?”

The auditorium is hushed, all eyes locked on Hermann. Newt can see that his grip on the head of his cane has gone knuckle-white. Hermann wets his lips and takes a breath that shakes, just slightly.

“It’s quite alright,” he says finally, and his voice betrays no emotion. “Certainly, the thought has crossed my mind. But dwelling in what-ifs and could-haves, my dear, benefits no one and — to put it bluntly — is a waste of precious time. All one can do is carry on.”

Maya nods and thanks him, and the room lets out a collective breath. The moderator looks a bit lost and calls on another student, who thankfully just wants to know about the grossest bit of kaiju viscera Newt ever had in the lab. The questions wrap up quickly after that.

 

Hermann is quiet throughout dinner, and when they get back to their hotel room he busies himself with his laptop, clacking away with a frown. Newt, in a grand show of self-restraint, doesn’t push him to talk about it all evening. When it comes time for bed, however, and Hermann opts to get into the other bed instead of the one Newt is in, he can’t restrain himself any longer.

“What are you doing?” he asks, wincing at the petulant tone in his own voice.

Hermann looks at him, weary. “I’d rather sleep alone tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

It’s _not_ alright with Newt, actually. The night before, in Boston, they’d fallen asleep tangled in each other’s arms; it was the first time in ages that Newt hadn’t jolted awake with nightmares. “Why?” he demands.

“I simply need some space,” Hermann says, an edge to his voice.

“Okay, no, come on, we’re talking about this,” Newt says, pushing off the covers and sitting up more fully. Hermann is resolutely not facing him. “You’ve been upset all afternoon.”

“I am not upset.”

“Bullshit!” Newt exclaims.

Hermann turns then, glowering. “All I am asking is that for _once_ in your life you respect my wishes. Is that truly too difficult a task for you?”

Stung, Newt snaps, “Y’know, I really thought after we fucked that maybe you’d stop being such an uptight prick, but I guess _that’s_ asking for too much, too.” He’s being needlessly cruel, he knows he always takes things too far, but the words fall out of his mouth before he can stop them. He feels needy and abandoned all at once and he doesn’t understand why Hermann won’t just _talk_ to him.

Hermann’s cheeks darken. “ _Newton_ , don’t be so crass. Why don’t you just be quiet before you say something you regret?”

Newt scowls. “Fine.” He flops back onto the pillow, crossing his arms and glaring at the ceiling.

He hears Hermann sigh, and the light clicks off. “Goodnight, Newton.”

Newt grunts in response. He spends what feels like hours in the dark, trying fruitlessly to fall asleep. Guilt is gnawing at his insides, and he rolls over to squint in the gloom at Hermann’s bed. He’s surprised to see that Hermann is still awake, sitting up with his back to Newt. Frowning, Newt reaches for the lamp and clicks it on. Hermann startles, and in the dim yellow light Newt can see that Hermann is shaking, his breath coming in soft, hitching whimpers.

Newt kicks off the covers and stumbles over to Hermann’s bed, easing himself down just behind him. Hermann doesn’t look at Newt as the mattress dips under his weight.

“Hey,” Newt says softly.

Hermann clears his throat. “I didn’t think you were still awake,” he says. His voice is hoarse.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Newt reaches hesitantly out to touch Hermann’s shoulder, and the strange irony that now he is the one comforting Hermann is not lost on him. He’s unused to this, to Hermann being the one shaking and vulnerable.

“Neither can I,” Hermann says, though exhaustion laces his words. “Too much on my mind, I’m afraid.”

“What that girl said really got to you, huh?” Newt guesses. “She was way out of line. I swear, it’s like they forget we’re real people.”

Hermann sighs. “No, no, it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t say anything which I wasn’t already thinking.”

Newt shifts forward on the bed and loops his arms around Hermann’s waist from behind, pulling him to his chest. Hermann goes willingly, covering Newt’s arms with his own.

“When you said you missed the war,” Hermann says slowly, tracing his hands over Newt’s forearms, “what did you mean?”

Newt hums. “I guess… I miss feeling useful? I mean, I was a second from falling apart pretty much all the time, don’t get me wrong, but at least I knew what my purpose was. Now, I feel sort of… aimless. And I’m still scared all the time, but I don’t even _need_ to be, right? It’s over but I’m still stuck in it.”

“Yes,” Hermann says bitterly. “Stuck is the appropriate term.”

“...Do you want to talk about what’s up with you, now?” Newt asks.

There’s a pause, and then Hermann seems to deflate, his head tipping back and to one side, tucking his face against Newt’s collar. “Some nights I spend hours thinking back on every miscalculation in my numbers, every error in coding or prediction that cost thousands of lives. All I see when I close my eyes are my greatest mistakes, and the solutions that I was too blind to realize until it was too late.”

There’s such defeat in Hermann’s words, it breaks Newt’s heart. He holds Hermann tighter to him, burying his nose in Hermann’s hair. “What about all that crap you were saying to that girl about not dwelling on the what-ifs?”

Hermann huffs out a humorless laugh. “I believe we both know that was, as you would put it, bullshit.”

“I had no idea you felt like this.” Newt feels guilty for not realizing sooner, but Hermann is exceptionally good at hiding things when he wants to. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You’ve been having such a hard time of it as it is. I didn’t want to add to your burden.”

“Well, that’s stupid. What about me adding to your burden?”

Hermann shifts in his embrace, expression stern. “You are not burdening me, Newton.”

Newt has to work _very_ hard not to roll his eyes. “And you wouldn’t be burdening _me_ , dude. What are you not getting about this?”

“I…” Hermann hesitates, pursing his lips, and when he speaks again his voice is soft, almost embarrassed. “I wanted to protect you. I suppose I haven’t done a very good job of it. Another failing.”

“Oh my god,” Newt says, overcome with love and exasperation all at once. “Sweetheart, you are _such_ an unnecessary martyr, it’s not even funny. I love that you want to protect me, but not if it means shutting me out. Honestly, it’s sort of a relief to know I’m not the only one doing a shit job at coping.”

Hermann huffs again, and Newt presses a kiss to the crown of his head. Then Hermann says, “You called me ‘sweetheart’.”

“Oh,” Newt says. “Uh, yeah, I guess it just sort of slipped out. Sorry, do you not like it?”

He sees the tips of Hermann’s ears reddening. “No, that’s — it’s fine.”

Newt smiles to himself. And then, because he knows it needs to be said, “I’m sorry. About before. I shouldn’t have said all that. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know,” Hermann says. “I’m sorry, too.” He stifles a yawn, and Newt feels exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“Do you… still want to sleep alone? I swear I won’t pitch a fit about it,” he says quickly. He makes to relinquish his hold around Hermann’s middle, but Hermann clutches his arms and keeps him in place.

“No,” Hermann says. “I only said that before because I knew it would be a bad night for me, and I didn’t want you to know,” he admits. “If you wouldn’t mind… please stay.”

So Newt does.

 

NYU has them booked for two days, so the next morning they find themselves at the same lecture hall, another crowd of students and faculty filling every seat in the auditorium. Newt watches Hermann carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, but finds none. Hermann gives him a reassuring nod. He’s in better spirits today.

They’ve found something like a rhythm now; the words come easy as Hermann clicks through their Powerpoint slides and Newt leans against the podium, far too casual, both of them cutting each other off and talking over each other, but it works.

Newt sees Hermann tense when it comes time for questions, but there is no repeat of yesterday and they both relax. Towards the end, a young man asks Newt, “When you Drifted with the kaiju brain, did you know you might die?”

Newt drums his fingers against the podium. “Sure. Obviously I knew it was a risk. I mean, no one had ever tried to Drift with anything besides other humans. I had an idea of what would happen, but I had no way of knowing for sure until I did it.”

“Then why’d you do it?”

Hermann’s eyes are on Newt now as well, expectant. Newt laughs slightly, shrugging. “Well I mean, I had to, right? We needed the information, it was the end of the world otherwise. One person isn’t more important than the whole world.”  

The student nods thoughtfully, and then says, “And you, Dr. Gottlieb? Why did _you_ do it?”

“I couldn’t very well let him go alone,” Hermann says indignantly. And then something changes in his expression, a softness in his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and he says, “Because, unsurprisingly, Dr. Geiszler is wrong.” He’s still looking right at Newt. “Sometimes… sometimes a single person is more important.”

The audience breaks into murmurs at that, and Newt stares at Hermann like he’s grown a second head. Hermann just smiles faintly and says, “I believe that’s all the questions we have time for.”

Newt barely manages to contain himself until they get back to their hotel. “You realize you basically just confessed your love for me in front of an entire auditorium,” he blurts out as soon as Hermann has shut the door behind them.

“Yes,” Hermann says. He is calmly removing his coat and hanging it over the back of a chair, leaning nonchalantly on his cane. “I expect the internet will have a field day with it.”

“And that… doesn’t bother you?” Newt asks, baffled. He realizes they haven’t discussed how secret — or not — they’re going to keep their relationship, not that they’ve had much time in the past three days.

Hermann crosses to stand in front of him and takes his hand. “I have spent far too much time as of late dwelling on my mistakes, instead of focusing on the one thing I got _right_ ,” he says. “I would do all of it again, every misstep and sleepless night and moment we weren’t certain we would live to see dawn, so long as it brought me here, now, with you.” He looks down. “It’s selfish, perhaps, exceedingly so, but I —”

He’s cut off with a noise of surprise as Newt surges forward to kiss him desperately. He drops their linked hands in favor of framing Hermann’s face, fingers slotting into place like they were meant to fit there against his cheekbones, behind his ears. Hermann’s hand comes to rest at the small of Newt’s back, pressing their bodies close together. He catches Newt’s bottom lip between his teeth, tugging slightly, and Newt whines. Hermann’s hand moves lower to squeeze his ass.

They stumble until the backs of Hermann’s knees hit one of the beds, and he drops down so Newt can slide into his lap.

“Hermann,” Newt says breathlessly, planting a messy kiss to the corner of Hermann’s mouth. “ _Hermann_ , can I please — I want —” He’s lost for words, overcome, heart hammering.

“What do you want, darling?” Hermann whispers, stroking his cheek. His eyes are bright, the pupils blown wide.

“I wanna take care of you,” Newt says, and he hopes Hermann knows he doesn’t just mean right now. Hermann nods, his throat clicking audibly when he swallows. Newt finds that his hands are shaking when he lifts them to unbutton Hermann’s shirt, trailing his lips along the exposed skin at Hermann’s collar. The last time they did this, everything felt frantic, desperate to touch and over too soon, overwhelmed as they both were. Newt wants to take his time now, unhurried.

He clambers off of Hermann just long enough for them both to strip out of their clothes, and then he stands between Hermann’s legs and bends down to kiss him again, slow and soft. His hand goes to Hermann’s hair, feeling the grain of Hermann’s undercut beneath his fingers, and Hermann hums, pleased.

Newt breaks the kiss and murmurs, “Lie back, okay?” Hermann obliges, shifting on the bed so his legs aren’t dangling off the edge. Newt pauses for a moment, simply staring.

“What?” Hermann says, propping himself up on his elbows. He looks self-conscious.

“Hermann, you’re… you’re kinda beautiful, you know that?” Newt says.

Hermann reddens. “Only ‘kind of’?” he quips.

Newt grins, crawls onto the bed and straddles Hermann carefully again. “More than kind of,” he amends. He moves slow and deliberate, mouthing along Hermann’s jaw, his throat, down his chest. Hermann is making these soft noises that are making Newt _crazy_ , and he can’t help but moan a little as he kisses Hermann’s stomach.

He lowers himself further down Hermann’s body, bypassing the place where he knows Hermann is aching for his touch, and he chuckles when he hears Hermann grumble. He keeps going until he’s able to circle his fingers around one bony ankle and kiss just above it.

Hermann’s breath hitches as Newt makes his way back up, trailing gentle kisses along Hermann’s bad leg. He pauses at the scar tissue at his thigh, breath ghosting over the skin, and Hermann makes a surprised noise when Newt presses his lips there. He skims his nose against the soft, sensitive crease where Hermann’s inner thigh meets his hip, running a hand over the tense, heated skin of his abdomen.

“Newton,” Hermann says, breathless. “Newt, _please_ just —”

“Okay, okay,” Newt murmurs, smiling and pressing a kiss to Hermann’s hip. “I got you.” He wraps his fingers loosely around Hermann’s length, and the other man lets out a low whine, bucking into Newt’s grip. Newt jerks him off agonizingly slowly, and Hermann fumbles to reach down, threading his shaking fingers through Newt’s hair. He tugs, just slightly, and Newt gets the hint. No more teasing.

Hermann doesn’t take long to fall apart under Newt’s mouth and hand. “Oh, darling,” he exhales. The rough quality of his voice, not to mention the pet name, makes Newt nearly dizzy with arousal. Hermann comes with a gasp that is perhaps Newt’s name, fingers clenching in Newt’s hair. Newt pulls off, stroking him as he softens, watching the way Hermann’s chest heaves. Newt is achingly hard now, and when Hermann looks down at him, face flushed and dazedly pleased, Newt clambers up to the head of the bed again so he can kiss Hermann’s smiling mouth.

“Touch me?” Newt says against his lips, and Hermann nods, sliding one hand between their bodies, the other tracing along Newt’s spine and making him shudder.

Hermann hardly has to touch him — Newt’s been close since around the time Hermann called him “darling.” Hermann shifts beneath him, kissing his collarbone and chest as he jerks him off, and Newt whimpers as his orgasm hits and leaves him breathless. His strength gives out and he all but collapses on top of Hermann.

Hermann lets out a startled “oof.” He rubs his hand up and down Newt’s back, murmuring in his ear, “I love you, you’re so good to me,” and kisses the side of his head.

Newt turns his head to capture Hermann’s lips with his own. He feels fully blissed out, Hermann’s hand a strong, grounding presence on his bare skin. “I love you so much,” he mumbles. _Please never leave me_ , he thinks.

Or perhaps he says it out loud, because Hermann smiles, pushing Newt’s sweaty hair off his forehead, and says, “I intend to stay as long as you’ll have me.”

Some time passes as the two of them catch their breath. Eventually, Newt says, “I’d do it all again too, you know. A hundred times over, no question. Sometimes I’m _glad_ the war happened, I know that makes me a horrible person, but I don’t — I can’t — I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t even know who I’d _be_.”

“Shh,” Hermann soothes. “I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. The war is over, my dear. I think it is time for us both to start letting it go.”

Such a task is easier said than done, Newt knows this as well as Hermann; but with the prospect of their future stretched out bright and unknowable before them, he’s more than willing to give it a try.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "riches and wonders" by the mountain goats, a very good newmann song. idk if there will be more in this series but u never know!! if u enjoyed this one, comments are always super appreciated! <3 find me on twitter @hermanngottiieb and tumblr @josuhawashinton


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